


Family Ties

by Duck_Life



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Age of X-Man, Alternate Universe - Canon, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Snippets, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 18:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: Children come from hatcheries. No one has parents, no one has siblings, no one has grandchildren, and everything is fine.





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Seems like Age of X-Man is going heavy with the "romance/love is illegal" stuff but I wanted to explore the other side, the fact that if LOVE is illegal than what does that mean for families? What does it mean for platonic love? Familial love? So I took the liberty of exploring that.

Somehow Erik ends up showing the little girl around the Summers Institute. “Mr. Lensherr, I’m real excited about coming to the Inspa-tute,” she says, and he’s kind enough not to correct her pronunciation. “I’m just… scared I won’t make friends.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, child,” he assures her, and as he’s swinging his arm she reaches up and grabs his hand. “Everyone makes friends very fast here.”

“I hope the other kids like me.”

“You said your name was Luna?” he asks, something stirring. “You know, I once knew a little girl named…” He stops, his brow furrowing. They’ve stopped walking, and Luna looks confused.

“Mr. Lensherr?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “Lost my train of thought. Yes, anyway, I think you’ll be very happy at the Summers Institute.” He leads her onward through the campus. “Everybody is.”

* * *

Kurt feels the girl’s eyes on him while he’s eating lunch. He’s used to it by now— the fans, the admirers. It’s just that he usually has the Cuckoos as a buffer, and he’s woefully on his own today. After pretending he doesn’t see her for about five minutes, he finally sighs and makes direct eye contact with the young fan. “Guten tag.”

“ _ Eeeeee _ , ohmygod, ohmygod,” the girl gushes. “You’re Kurt Wagner!  _ The _ Kurt Wagner!”

“Actually, I get that a lot,” he jokes, flashing her a dazzling smile. 

The girl squeals again. “I’m really really sorry for bothering you but can I, like, get your autograph? I’m a  _ huge _ fan. I’ve seen every ‘Indianapolis Jones’ movie, like, a jillion times.” 

“Do you have—?” he says, bizarrely wondering if she’s about to produce a glossy headshot from her purse.

The girl just whips around, her back to him.  “Sign my shirt!”

“Oh, okay,” he says. The girl  _ does _ have a pen, which she hands to him. Kurt leans over her, scrawling his name on the fabric of the girl’s t-shirt. “Always a pleasure to meet a fan.”

“Can… oh, please, if it’s not too much to ask, can I take a picture with you?” she asks. 

“I… sure,” he says, thinking that his lunch has probably gone cold by now. The attention is nice, though, that much he can’t deny. The girl holds up her cell phone and squeezes into frame beside him, and he flashes a signature sparkling smile. Her phone camera clicks.

And then, while she’s still pressed up close to him, she turns and whispers in his ear, “Something is wrong here, don’t act like you can’t see it.” 

Kurt gasps and jerks away, unsure of what the stranger is implying or why her giddy manner has slipped away. The girl looks back at him with yellow-amber eyes, and his look of surprise morphs into a bitter scowl. 

“I told you I never want to see you again,” he says firmly, letting his fangs show. 

“I don’t care.” The girl has changed now, shifted to reveal her true form— a blue-skinned woman with red shoulder-length hair, glaring at him. “I need you to listen to me. Your life— the lives of  _ all  _ the X-Men, they’re… something is  _ wrong _ , Kurt. I can see it, why can’t you?” 

“Goodbye,” he says, tossing some bills on the table and stalking away from her. 

“You have to listen to me!” the woman yells, furious. Scared. “For God’s sake, I’m your mother.”

“I don’t have a mother,” Kurt says easily. “No one does.”

* * *

Jean reaches for the coffee pot one morning and the sight of it  _ reminds _ her of something, someone.  _ He drank more coffee than anyone I ever met _ , that’s the thought that flashes through her mind, followed by the crashing, sorrowful realization that the man she’s remembering is dead. “Cable,” she mumbles. 

“Hm?” Ororo asks, glancing over. “What did you say?”

“Cable is dead,” Jean says. 

Ororo blinks. “What is Cable?  _ Who _ is Cable?”

Jean shakes her head, feeling suddenly faint. “I… I have no idea.”

* * *

“ _ Please _ ,” the girl screams as she’s hauled away by guards. “They’re going to lock me up! Laura, you have to… I’m your  _ sister _ .” 

“This must be terribly difficult for you,” Nate tells Laura, a comforting hand on her shoulder. It is. It’s hard for Laura to watch the girl with the scars on her face be taken to prison, but she understands it, too. This is for the girl’s best interests, as well as everyone else’s. “If you need support, or advice, you know that I am always available.”

“Right. Thanks,” Laura says, fighting the urge to pop her claws. Kids screaming,  _ any _ kids screaming, it always puts her on edge. 

“You have nothing to worry about. She’s young,” Nate points out. “The girl will be rehabilitated, I’m sure, and dissuaded of her delusions.”

“Yeah,” Laura agrees, turning away so she doesn’t have to see the girl sobbing. “I just. Kids screaming.” She shudders. “I don’t like to hear kids screaming.”

Nate nods sagely. “Who does?”

* * *

Jean-Paul stares out over the roof of the X-Sanctuary, appreciating the breeze swishing through his hair. “Okay, Jubes,” he says, holding his hands out. “I did promise you that for your hatchday I’d take you on a flight.” 

Jubilee grins. “Awesome.” Jean-Paul picks her up and they fly, over the tops of buildings, over trees and monuments and roads laid out beneath them like little model railroads, all flying by in a colorful blur. 

When they land again, Jubilee’s hair is a wild tangle from the wind. Jean-Paul’s is, somehow, perfect… but he looks concerned. 

“Something wrong?” Jubilee asks. 

“I… don’t know,” he admits, which is odd for him. Jean-Paul usually has to be right about everything. “Sometimes… it’s as if I’m flying off-balanced. Like I should be up there with someone else, a sister flier.”

Jubilee shakes her head, shrugs. “You’ve always been fast enough on your own, far as I can see.”

“Well, obviously.” But the feeling in the pit of his stomach is not so easily silence. “Jubilee… do you ever feel that there is something you should  _ know _ , should  _ recall _ , that slips away like you’re trying to hang onto… a cloud?” 

Her eyes go inward, and she ducks her head, and she is thinking about another tangled head of hair, big eyes, chubby tiny hands… The memories slide away so fast, so fragile, just like Jean-Paul said. 

But Jubilee says, “No. I never feel like that.” 


End file.
